Vodka

Loki88

This story is rated PG-13. Criticism is welcome...

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I never really thought about it before it happened. That something I liked, just one thing, could change and ruin my life forever. I ran away the person I loved, to make her try to forget me but only to cry at night thinking of me. What is this great divider, this great catalyst that ruined my life?

Vodka.

A clear, alcoholic drink that warms your throat and body as whiskey does yet tastes so much better in my opinion. Why did vodka ruin my relationship? I was never was violent when drinking, nor did I scream at yelled at her, nor was I an asshole to people when drinking.

The problem was that I did not have full control of my senses when I was drinking. Even sober, I did things without thinking about it. The main one was flirting. I did it without thinking. Yet when a drop of alcohol hit my tongue, I couldn’t stop myself. I would flirt with any female that came by me. Whether it was my wife, or her sister, or friends, or anybody else, I couldn’t stop myself.

I never thought my marriage would turn out like my parents. And in a way, I was right. My parent’s marriage was one great big lie in itself. They cheated on each other and neither one of them could trust the other or anybody else because of too many lies and heartaches that they went through. They divorced, a great tearful and angry process that they never really got over. After that, they could never have a fulfilling relationship because they were too paranoid of the other cheating or lying to them.

I swore everyday that I wouldn’t turn out to be like my parents, too paranoid to trust another person because of past deeds.

Yet in a way, I did. Oh…I was never paranoid or I never lied. Exactly the opposite, I never did lie or wonder what somebody was doing behind my back. I trusted in her to love me and be with me forever, for I would do the same.

‘Till Death Do Us Part.

‘Till Stupidity Do Us Part.

My stupidity.

Just one night of drinking at the local bar changed my life forever, for the worst.

Sitting at the bar drinking the divider caused it all. I was watching the TV above the bar, trying to figure out what the program was about when a female as beautiful as a rose is beautiful sat next to me and ordered a drink.

I was too stunned to take a drink or to pull my eyes away from her. Her long, wavy black hair ran down to her lower back; its darkness intoxicating me as much as the drink did. At first I didn’t see her face, but when I did, heaven itself could hold no greater beauty than that of the angel sitting next to me.

Her green eyes would have been beautiful beyond anything Raphael, Michelangelo, or any other great artist could’ve imagined if it wasn’t for the tears that were standing in them. Even that was heavenly.

Trying to be gentlemanly, I asked her what was wrong and if I could do anything to help.

And her voice was like a masterpiece in itself. It was greater than any female singer that a person could see on TV or hear on the radio. I almost sighed from the pleasure of hearing it.

The reason for her angelic tears was that her fiancée was cheating on her. Sounded like a soap opera to me yet as I listened to her voice overpowered me, tendering my soul and intoxicating my mind. I wanted to grab her and tear her own pain and sadness from her and clench it into me so I wouldn’t have to see the tears stain her beauty. I wanted to plant soft kisses on her, so soft that she wouldn’t even feel them.

Yet I refrained at first, trying to comfort her yet wondering what I could do to help. The night passed on and the drinks kept coming for both of us and the tears and problems melted away from her, making her beauty light the sky.

I didn’t know how it happened, but however it did, we ended up in a hotel and in a sweet that looked like it was used for honeymooners.

At first sight of her standing before me, unclothed as the day she or anyone else was born, made a great pleasure run through me. The pleasure of seeing an angel in human form. No drug, no substance, no sexual experience made so great a pleasure in me as seeing her.

I watched her walk towards me, taking my hands in hers and running them across her body. Her skin was like silk, so soft that I was afraid that my hands would rip her flesh and mar her beauty.

Yet as she continued, my hesitancy went away and it was my own hands that caressed her body, feeling every curve and niche on her, feeling the goose bumps rise on her as the cold air hit her and as the pleasure rose in her. Feeling her pale nipples rise as the fervor increased between us. Her own hands roamed across my body and touching me until I could take it no longer.

The bed itself was hard compared to her softness yet that was where we laid through the night. I had felt no pleasure greater in my life than that of lying with her in that hotel room. Her pleasure came before mine but as the night passed, mine increased to the point that I thought I was in heaven.

It ending with her sweating body against my own, her black hair disheveled yet still beautiful beyond description. We kissed over and over until exhaustion from the pleasure took over us and we fell asleep, out bodies still entangled.

The next morning we awoke to sunlight pouring into the room. We showered together, the pleasure even greater than the night before, the water rolling down our bodies, the steam creating an almost mystical experience as the water mixed in with the sweat and the passion and hot as the water.

We exchanged numbers and addresses just in case anything happened and we parted ways. A sigh of regret and wonder escaped my lips as I watched an angel walk away.

I went home to find my wife on the front steps, crying silently and looking at me. She never asked what happened nor accused me of anything. It was the way she looked at me. Sad beyond description. And so hurt inside.

I couldn’t stand to see her like that. I didn’t want to be my parents. Lying so much and for so long that they begin to believe that they’re telling the truth. I told her the truth. I didn’t blame it on alcohol. I didn’t blame it on my marriage or her.

I blamed it on myself. That I was too weak to control myself.

That night she packed all of her clothes and personal items. She never said a word to me; just left.

I never saw her again. Not even in court when the process of divorce was taking place.

I quit drinking yet I still thought of my wife. And that angel who made me catch a glimpse of heaven. I never heard from the angel either. I never remarried or had a serious relationship again. The passion wasn’t the same as before. I was lost in my own failings and regrets for the past.

On my own tombstone I plan to put next to my name:

I do not regret the things that I have done, but those that I didn’t do.

And that was being faithful.